Of Big Brothers and Kindergarten Jitters
by Queen Edmund Pevensie
Summary: Sam Winchester goes to kindergarten.
1. Of Big Brothers and Kindergarten Jitters

**A/N: Welcome to the mess that ended up being a five chapter story of Sam Winchester's kindergarten experience. Considering this was only supposed to be ONE chapter when I started writing it in May, I'd say it's gotten out of hand, especially because I finished last week. But, as always, when something takes more than three seconds, I wouldn't be publishing if it was humiliating.  
**

**Disclaimer: I disclaim all rights to Sam, Dean, and John Winchester. I disclaim all rights to anything involving Supernatural. I disclaim that this story has no embarrassing spelling errors, and if it does, please point them out to me, because when I read my stories, I find mistakes to the point where it's embarrassing. Then, I'm lazy, so I don't fix them, but if YOU find them, I might.  
**

**Never Mind.  
**

**Chapter One: Of Big Brothers and Kindergarten Jitters   
**

By fourth grade, Dean knew school was a joke. You didn't need a college degree to be a hunter, and that was exactly what Dean was going to be. Dad promised that Dean could come with him once he turned ten, and Dean would be ten this year. This year, Dean would be an actual hunter like Dad, and Uncle Bobby, and Caleb, and Pastor Jim, and a whole lot of other people who were a lot cooler than the mechanic or traveling salesman Dean told everyone his dad was.

So yeah, by fourth grade, Dean knew his grades in school would impact him. Besides, every time they moved (which was a lot) Dean was behind or confused and they were never anywhere long enough for him to bother catching up anymore. It was that he wasn't capable of it, it was just hard work, and Dean had other things to worry about.

Like training and Sammy. Last year, in third grade, Dean would have to skip school to watch Sam, and sometimes, Dean let homework slide to make sure Sam was okay. Dean didn't mind. It was just part of being a big brother, and besides, school was a joke.

This year would be different. Sam was going to full-day kindergarten, so Dean wouldn't have to stay home from school if Dad went hunting. They still wouldn't be in any town for more than two months, so it wasn't like either of them would have a chance to settle in, but still, maybe Dean would do better in school and make Dad feel like Dean wouldn't grow up to be a one-trick horse.

Just because Dean didn't think school was important, didn't mean Sam should feel like that too. Somewhere, deep down, Dean realized that would make him a bad big brother, and Sam was so excited about going to school. Dean wasn't going to ruin that for him. No matter how geeky that made his little brother.

He was, however, going to dose him with a hard sense of reality. He just wanted Sam to be prepared.

Dad was home the night before school started, and he even made dinner to celebrate Sam going to kindergarten.

"You excited about school tomorrow?" asked Dad. Sam was practically bouncing off the walls with excitement. "Stop bouncing, Sam," he added sharply.

"Yes, sir," said Sam.

"Geek," scoffed Dean good-naturedly.

"Nu-uh," said Sam back, although he didn't really know what "geek" meant. "I'm just smart." He had a pretty good idea though.

"Whatever."

"Why don't you like school, Dean?" asked Sam. "Is it bad?"

"Nah," lied Dean. "Only, the other kids can be really mean."

"Oh."

"The teachers too, sometimes," added Dean.

"Like how?" asked Sam, who was suddenly pulling that stupid puppy-dog face.

"Some of them tell you you're stupid," said Dean with a shrug. "They probably won't tell _you_ that, Sam. You practically glow in genius juices." Sam wrinkled his nose at the thought of really smart people like Dad or Dean being wrung out for the stuff that makes them so smart.

"And, I mean," continued Dean. "We dropped you in so much of the stuff; you're practically a genius, so I'm guessing school will be easy." No one noticed Dad's smug smile. Dean's smile, however, vanished. "Don't get the wrong idea, though, Sammy," he said warningly. "Moving and school don't really go well together." Sam cocked his head. "Like, different schools teach different things different times, so sometimes, you're a little behind."

"Don't scare him, Dean," said Dad.

Dean ignored him. "It doesn't mean you shouldn't try, though, okay?" he continued. Sam nodded. "Because that would be a damn shame." Dad had given up a long time ago to get Dean to stop cursing (granted, he didn't try very hard). "And you know what I always say?"

"If I need anything, ask Dean," repeated Sam.

"Right," confirmed Dean. "I don't mind, and besides, big brother knows best," he added with a smirk.

(_Supernatural: Of Big Brothers and Kindergarten Jitters_)

Dad dropped the boys off at school in the big, loud badass Impala that Dean was trying to get his hands on as soon as he was old enough to drive, even though Dad told him it was never going to happen. Sam grabbed Dean's hand as soon as Dad and the Impala were out of sight.

"Dean," he whispered nervously. "Where do I go?"

"How should I know, Sam?"

Sam shrugged. "Find it," he muttered.

"Are you kidding?" asked Dean incredulously. "I'm new here, too, Sammy! And _all_ of the kindergartners are new!"

"Sorry," muttered Sam, but he didn't let go of Dean's hand. He stood on the blacktop with kids milling around them, staring down at his boots. "Could you _help_ me?" he asked without look up.

"Fine."

Dean took Sam over to where a kindergarten teacher was herding a bunch of five-and-six-year-olds into lines and handing out name tags. Most of them were holding their parents' hands loosely or striding confidently (and not-so-confidently) over. They were all nervous, but none as nervous as Sammy, who was clutching Dean's hand so hard it hurt.

"Loosen up, kiddo," Dean whispered. "I think I found the kindergarten."

"_Really?"_ said Sam bitingly. Five-years-old and a _biting_ sense of sarcasm. Sam clutched Dean's hand harder.

"Skip the bitch-face, Sam," he muttered back. Dean pried Sam's fingers off his hand. "I gotta go, Sammy." He gave Sam a little half-smile, ignoring his own anxiety growing in the pit of his stomach. "You've been so excited about school, too! Just remember that. You'll be fine. I'll see you at the end of the day."

Sam nodded, but he didn't move, so neither did Dean. "Why can't you come with me?" Sam pouted.

Dean rolled his eyes. "_I_ have to go to fourth grade, genius. I already _went_ to kindergarten."

"You could go again," Sam muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, right," said Dean, who apparently heard anyway. "Don't be a girl, Sammy, just go to school."

Dean supposed he wasn't being totally fair. When _Dean _went to kindergarten, he was so scared he couldn't speak. He remembered something like a temper tantrum, resulting in Dad half-dragging him to school. But come on, this was _Sam_. Sam wasn't afraid of anything and he was afraid of going to _kindergarten! _Sam fearlessly answered strangers' questions, and was too cute on purpose, and forced Dean to walk to the library and got a library card all by himself, even though he could hardly read or write, and even though Dean told him they were just going to move before he could get any use of it. Sam always talked back to Dad, and he always talked about Mom. And _Sammy_ was afraid of going to kindergarten.

Sam threw his arms around Dean's waist. "I'll see you at the end of the day," said Sam.

"Yeah, okay," said Dean back. Dean sort of didn't want Sam to go to kindergarten.

A short woman with dark hair came over to the boys. She smiled and her cheeks had dimples deeper than Sam's, but Dean thought it wasn't quite real. "Are you Sam?" she asked. Sam wrapped his hand in Dean's jacket. He nodded. She handed Sam a long piece of yarn with a stupid laminated paper pencil with SAM W written on it in big, black letters.

"Bye, Dean," said Sam, disentangling his hand from Dean's jacket, looping the name tab around his neck. He readjusted his backpack and smiled. He was excited again.

"Be good," Dean reminded him, even though reminding him to be good was like reminding him to breathe, or Dean to take care of Sam, or Dad to be awesome.

(_Supernatural: Of Big Brothers and Kindergarten Jitters_)

Dean was late for fourth grade. Like as soon as the kindergarten was herded inside, Dean was the only person on the blacktop playground. Sighing, he fished the paper that had his teacher's name on it from his pocket and made his way inside, expertly avoiding the secretary/security guard at the front office. Thankfully, all of the teachers had their names taped to their doors, so finding the room wasn't hard.

He was still late. Dean planted a fake grin on his face and stalked inside. He smirked at his teacher and took his seat. He knew it was his because it was the only seat left. _Dean Winchester _was written in neat, cursive letters.

The teacher rushed over to him. "You must be Dean," she said sweetly. She was kind of young, and Dean thought she was kind of pretty. He felt sort of bad for making a bad first impression.

He nodded. "That's right," he said.

"I was afraid you got lost." She handed him a stack of papers for Dad to fill out. Grown-up homework, he would grumble. Like he didn't have enough to deal with without having a million papers to sign. "Did you get lost?" the teacher asked Dean.

"Nah," answered Dean. He wanted to say _No, ma'am. My little brother was afraid to go to kindergarten. I wanted to make sure he was okay. _Instead he said, "Nah, I had to make sure my brother made it to school."

"Oh," she said. "Your brother?"

"Sammy's in kindergarten," said Dean in the way that he only ever talked about Sammy.

She smiled and went back to her desk.

(_Supernatural: Of Big Brothers and Kindergarten Jitters_)

In kindergarten, Sam was also given papers for Dad. His kindergarten teacher smiled at the class and introduced herself. Her name was sort of long and hard to pronounce so she told them it was okay to just call her Miss D.

Then, she told them to sit on the carpet in a circle so they could play a fun get-to-know-you game. The kindergartners all sat on an A-B-C rug (Sam could already sing his ABC's forwards _and_ backwards, even though Dean told him that knowing your alphabet backwards was stupid). She said that they would go around in a circle and share their name and one thing they did over the summer. Miss D. started, and when she was done, she smiled at them. It was sort of a fake happy smile, but no one had ever smiled at Sam like that. Dad would think she was kind of _patroning, _or something. "Who's next?" she asked.

Sam's hand shot up in the air. A couple of other kids raised their hands too. "Okay, Sam," she chose.

"I'm Sam," said Sam. "This summer Dean and I went to Uncle Bobby's and played every single day, and Dean wasn't as bossy as he usually is when Dad works."

"Good, Sam," said Miss D. "Jeffery, you're next."

The boy sitting next to Sam grumbled a little and they went around in a circle. One girl, named Emma, went to Disney World and rode a big-kid rollercoaster. Another girl named Alice learned to roller-skate.

The last student to share was sitting next to Sam. "I'm Andrew," he said. "This summer, the only thing I did was go on some road trip with my_ two_ older brothers, and _three _older sisters. And my mom and dad didn't come so it was just the six of us stuck in a car most of the time. It isn't that exciting though, cuz my oldest brother is eighteen and smells like socks."

Sam didn't think it sounded exciting anyway. He was always in the Impala, and Dean smelled worse than socks.

Then Miss D. asked who was nervous about kindergarten. Sam was still kind of scared. There were lots of kids in his class and he couldn't remember anyone's name except for Andrew (with the big family) and Miss D. Everyone except for Andrew (with the big family) and a little boy (even smaller than Sammy) whose name might have been David raised his hand. "See?" said Miss. D. "It's okay to be nervous." Then she read a story about being nervous in kindergarten and how the little boys and girls got _un_-scared of kindergarten and how it was really fun.

Miss D. sent them back to their tables. Sam sat at a table with Andrew (with the big family). Sam smiled shyly at him. There were two girls at their table too. Their names were Lauren and Victoria.

After they introduced themselves to their tablemates, Miss D. handed out pieces of paper with black letters and spaces and places to color. Miss D. handed out crayons to color with.

Sam could read the papers, just like Dean said he'd be able to. "This is me. My name is –"and then a blank space to put your name.

They were making a class book, she explained. On the line they would write their names and they could draw a picture of themselves and then we would put them together in a class book. They would all get a copy at the end of the year. Sam was so excited; he forgot they wouldn't be staying until June. "This is me. My name is Sam." And he drew a picture of himself and his floppy hair. They all shared their pictures and names again.

It was time for lunch after that. Miss D. told them they should line up shortest to tallest. Sam just after Possibly David, who had two girls in front of him. Andrew with the big family was all the way in the back.

Sam clutched his brown bag lunch to his chest as Miss D. led them to the cafeteria, reminding them not to talk in the hallway and not to run and showing them the main office and stuff. Sam sat with Tall Andrew with the Big Family at lunch.


	2. Of Family Trees and Moving

**Disclaimer: I do not own any characters in here, with the exception of Tall Andrew with the Big Family, Miss D, The Teacher Whose Name Dean Refuses to Learn, and Lucy Whose Already Ten. I also do not own the abruptness of kids. **

**Chapter Two: Of Family Trees and Moving   
**

Dean sat at his table. There was a pretty girl there. She had already lost all her baby teeth, and her grown-up teeth were coming in straight, and she was already ten. Dean liked the way she wrinkled her nose at him when he asked slyly what her name was and if she wanted to kiss him (because subtlety wasn't Dean's style). She also told him, in no uncertain terms, she didn't kiss bad boys.

Now they were making an "about me" paper shirt. Something to tack on a stupid bulletin board. They were supposed to put things they were excited about, things that they liked to do, their age, et cetera, et cetera.

Dean wrote his name and put a nine on one sleeve and his birthday on the other. At the bottom, he thought about writing "girls" and showing it to the pretty girl (Lucy, Dean saw her write on her paper). He also thought about writing monsters, or guns, or fighting, but Dean already knew better. Dean drew a tiny picture of pie. He stood up.

"What are you doing?" asked Lucy bossily.

"I'm done."

The teacher, whose name Dean didn't bother to learn since they wouldn't be here long anyway, came over. "Are you done?" she asked, looking at Dean's mostly white paper shirt. Dean nodded. She smiled. "Is that cake?" she asked, pointing to the pie.

"_No_," replied Dean. "That's _pie._" Teachers could be so stupid.

"Pie isn't really about _you, _Dean," she said.

Dean rolled his eyes. She asked them to draw things they liked, and Dean liked pie. No one understood. Pie was the only thing he loved as much as Sam.

"Why don't you keep working," she suggested. Dean added a black blob that was supposed to be the Impala. In between the pie and Baby, Dean drew stick figures of his family. He drew Mom with long hair and Sam with floppy hair. He drew himself with no hair and Dad with a beard. He didn't draw any faces.

"I'm done now."

"We'll share them in a few minutes."

(_Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

After lunch, they had recess. Sam played kickball with Tall Andrew with the Big Family. Sam didn't know how to play, but he was pretty good. There wasn't much to it really. You had to kick the ball and run to the base before you got smacked in the face. It was kind of like training (Sam still didn't know what he was training for, because Dad didn't like questions ever, and Dean never answered).

Then they had naptime. (_Treasure it,_ Dean told him. The one and only perk of full day kindergarten.)

Sam's kindergarten class played another name game, and then Miss D. read them a story about being a good friend. After the story was finished, they stayed on the rug and brainstormed ways they could be good friends. Their ideas were pinned up on a bulletin board as they played a matching game at their tables. Sam won.

(_Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

At the end of the day, the students were dismissed and Dean snuck away from the cluster of fourth, fifth, and sixth graders, and moved through the sea of second and third graders, and smiled stunningly at the first graders, until he made it to the kindergarten hallway, where he received an armful of excited Sammy.

"You were wrong," Sam told Dean's shirt. "School isn't _too _bad."

"Yeah?" said Dean. "Then why are you telling my shirt, dude?"

Sam beamed up at him. Dean decided Sam could go to school tomorrow too.

On the ride home in the Impala, Sam told Dean (and Dad too, but mostly Dean) all about his first day and wonder out loud if maybe they could _not _move this year. No one knew Dad's heart broke a little when he heard Sam say that. No one knew, because both of his boys froze in anticipation of Dad's anger.

Which, in their defense, it certainly seemed like that when Dad gave Sam the usual speech about how Dad was in charge and if Dad said they were moving, then it doesn't matter what is so important to them in town, they've got to move. But then, Dad's voice got sort of gentle, and he said he was sorry it had to be that way, and hew glad Sam enjoyed his first day of school.

Dean snorted and said, "Geek."

"What's a geek, Dean?"

"Someone who really likes school," said Dean. Sam made a face, like he couldn't understand why that was a bad thing. "And is super smart."

"Like me?" asked Sam.

Dean rolled his eyes. "Yeah, like you."

"Why is that a _bad_ thing?"

Dean shrugged. "It's _not_, I guess," explained Dean. "People just say it like it is."

"Oh." Sam didn't care, though. If that was what a geek was, then Sam was more than happy to be a geek.

(_Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving_)

Sam and Dean went to school that morning with their papers all signed by Dad (who grumbled very little despite the sheer _amount_ of papers that had to be completed and how _much_ Dad hated paperwork). Dean wasn't as late for fourth grade today, because Sam hugged Dean once and ran to play with Tall Andrew with the Big Family before school started.

But Dean's teacher stayed behind with Dean to ask Dean to try to get to class on time tomorrow.

(_Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving) _

The second day of fourth grade was hell for Dean, because they started recapping things Dean didn't really learn in third grade, because he was too busy moving, or learning to be a hunter, or looking after Sammy.

It was also the day they got the family tree project for homework.

It wasn't like Dean had to do extensive research on his Dad (which wouldn't make the teacher too happy), or Mom (which wouldn't make _Dad _too happy), but it meant drawing or gluing a picture of each member of his family and telling a little about them.

Dean thought it was a stupid project anyway.

(_Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

In kindergarten, Sam's teacher read them another story, and Sam played a game with dice and counting, and Sam could count better than the other kid. They did more crafts, and played kickball at recess.

After recess, Sam and Tall Andrew with the Big Family giggled during naptime, and Miss D. shushed them. They played another name game and colored some more.

_(Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

At home, Dean sat at the little corner table. They were staying at a motel in this middle-of-nowhere town. It was bigger than a lot of the rooms they stayed in during the summer, but Dean guessed they weren't staying long in this town. Maybe longer than usual, because Dad was on a job a couple of towns over. Just for Sammy's sake, Dean hoped they could stay.

At the corner table, Dean was scribbling his stupid family tree project. He was about three seconds from throwing it away, because Dean knew they weren't around long enough for first impressions to mean anything, anyway, but Dad walked in just as Dean had gotten up to throw it out. He had been out getting dinner.

"Nope," said Dad without glance twice at Dean. "Sit down."

Dean sat down. He didn't argue, even though he wanted to. Dad didn't care. Dad sent them to school, and if his boys were going to school, then his boys were not going to be failures. Dad's boys were going to treat school like they treated everything else. Sam and Dean were going to give it three-hundred-percent with their give-them-hell-attitudes. Which, Dad supposed, was exactly was Dean was doing. Giving them Hell.

But Dean had promised he'd _try_ to do his homework. Or something.

"Hey, Dad?" asked Dean, looking at his admittedly crappy family tree project. Dean didn't like asking about Mom, because it made Dad sad, and it made him sad, too. Still, Dean thought the other kids should get to see just how beautiful his mom was.

Dad looked up and grunted. "Yeah?"

"Can I take a picture of Mom to school?" he asked timidly. Dad and Dean never talked about Mom (due to the fact that it made them sad, and men don't get sad), even though Sammy asked about her sometimes. Sam looked up from where he was playing with train tracks on the floor.

Dad just took a deep breath and stood up to look at Dean's project. He was quiet for a long time, and Dean braced himself. "I don't think so, bud," answered Dad at last. After all, they only had two pictures of Mom. They were like, the two most important things Dad had.

Dean nodded sadly. One day, those kids at those schools would see how awesome his mom was. How beautiful she was. How kickass she was, too. But they couldn't. And neither could Sam. Dean understood, but he thought Mom was something to brag about, and no one would ever know.

"How 'bout you and Sam?"

Dad sighed. "Make sure you get the project when we move, Dean."

Dean jumped up and fished through the small (_very_ small) photo album which they had accumulated the past five years or so. Dean found a picture of the three of them and glued it to the bottom of his paper with a mostly dried-up glue stick. He drew stick figures in the other spots. He smiled up at Dad, who had taken a break from his research and was watching Dean sadly.

(_Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

Dean was late for his third day of fourth grade too. His teacher, whose name he still stubbornly refused to learn, eyed him curiously as he took his seat next to Lucy with the nose wrinkling.

"You're late again," Lucy pointed out.

Dean realized that he might hate this girl if she wasn't so focused on hating _him._ He wanted to see if he could make her smile by the time they left. If he could, then he might spend some time actively hating her. In the mean time, it was more fun to aggravate her. "Problem, sweetheart?" which didn't sound as tough as it did when Dad said it. She huffed and turned away.

Projects were shared and collected first thing. Dean scribbled his name on the back of his as he was standing up to share.

"In my family," shared Dean with the smirk he'd perfected. "I am the older brother or one little runt." Some of the boys sniggered. "Sammy's in kindergarten this year. He's five. His birthday is May 2.

"My birthday is January 24 and I am nine. I don't have any pets, cuz we move a lot and my dad can't take care of anything else.

"My dad's name is John," said Dean with a smile. "He's kinda like a superhero. We move around because of my dad's job. He's real good at what he does.

"My mom's name is Mary," said Dean, trying hard to keep smiling, but his voice broke just a little. "She is very beautiful, but my dad won't let me show you. My mom died when I was four, but she's still better than yours." Dean swallowed and smiled again. ""That's my family," he concluded, and handed the project to the teacher.

When Dean sat down, Lucy leaned close. "I didn't know about your mom," she whispered. "I'm sorry." She smiled at him.

Well that game got boring fast.

_(Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

On Sam's third day of school, he got the family project. It wasn't like Dean's though. It was a worksheet (which Sam could read perfectly) that came with crayons.

_Me and My Family. _

_I am Sam. I am five-years-old. I live with my dad and my brother. My brother is nine. Here is a picture of my family._

Sam drew a picture of his family and the Impala.

"A car's no part of your family," said the girl sitting across from Sam.

Sam frowned. Dean might kill this girl if she ever heard her say that. "Yes it is."

"Why don't you have a mom?" asked the other girl at their table.

"My mom is dead."

"Do you miss her?" she asked quietly. Her granny died last year and she missed her a lot.

Sam shook his head, but he felt like crying. "I don't know her."

"You're lucky," said Tall Andrew with the Big Family, scanning Sam's paper. Sam frowned some more; how was he lucky that he didn't have a mom. "You only have _one_ brother." Tall Andrew with Big Family showed Sam his own paper.

"Whoa," said Sam. "That's a lot of people."

Tall Andrew with the Big Family nodded. "You bet."

"I just gots my brother, Dean," Sam told the whole table. "Sometimes, I gots my dad too, but I always gots Dean."

_(Supernatural: Of Family Trees and Moving)_

Sam got over the close-call incident with the girls who made him sad. He liked school. Just like Dean said he was smart and Dean helped him when he wasn't.

They made it to October before Dad moved them again. They'd spent some weekends alone, and some at Uncle Bobby's. Sam counted, and they'd only missed five whole days of school.

On October 14, it was a Friday, Sam's class said goodbye. They gave him a class book, and they were sort of sad. Sam gave Tall Andrew with the Big Family a big hug, when Dean met them in the kindergarten hallway on their last day.

"Come _on_, Sammy," said Dean impatiently. "Dad's probably already outside."

"Bye, Andrew!" said Sammy, taking Dean's hand, and waving.

"Bye, Sam!" said Tall Andrew with the Big Family.

Dean turned to Sam. "That's Tall Andrew with the Big Family?" he asked. Sam nodded sadly. "He's not _that_ tall, Sam." Sam shrugged. "He your friend?" Sam shrugged again.

Suddenly, he looked up at Dean. "Who are your friends, Dean?"

Dean shrugged this time. "Don't got any," said Dean simply.

"There's me," said Sam, smiling stupidly.

"Yeah," agreed Dean. "I kinda like you." He pulled Sam closer, his arm around Sam's shoulder. Sammy giggled and struggled to get free. "So Tall Andrew with the Big Family," continued Dean, releasing Sam. "How big is 'big?'"

"Pretty big," confirmed Sam. "He's got two big brothers, and three big sisters, and his dad _and_ his mom, and three of his grandparents live with him –" Sam stopped. "Do we have grandparents, Dean?"

Dean shrugged. "I dunno. Mom's mom and dad died before we were born. I don't know about Dad."

"Could we ask him?"

"Your funeral," advised Dean, opened the car door for Sam, who clambered in. Dean slid next to him.

Sam sighed. "Andrew also has three dogs."

"Andrew?" Dad asked, looking at Sam in the mirror. He looked tired, and a little beat up.

"Andrew's my friend from school," explained Sam. "Dad…?"

"If this is about moving, Sammy," started Dad. He sounded _really_ tired. "I'm not in the mood. I'm sorry, Sam, but we have to."

Sam pouted, but he didn't argue. "I'm gonna miss him though."

Dad sighed. "I know, Sam."

"Can we get a dog?" asked Sam, suddenly happy.

Dean laughed, and Dad sighed again. "We move around too much, Sam," said Dad, trying _really_ hard to be patient. "Some dogs don't do great in the car, and not everywhere we stay will let us."

"Stupid," muttered Sam.

Dad raised his eyebrows. "What was that?"

"Moving," clarified Sam.

"You've made that very clear, Sam," Dean reminded him.

"It's not really up to you, though," added Dad. "Sam, I know this is hard for you to understand, but have to keep moving." Actually, it was impossible for Sam to understand. "Got it?"

"Yes, sir," grumbled Sam.


	3. Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving

**Disclaimer: I not only don't own Supernatural, but I apologize for borrowing it. Honestly, I'm sorry. **

**Chapter Three: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving **

The next school they were at had passed Sam's old kindergarten class and Dean's old fourth grade call. This school also had a tire swing, playground, and monkey bars, and more slides. Sammy was really excited about the slides. It was smaller too, and only went up to the fifth grade. The last school they were at had sixth graders too.

Dean only did his homework because Dad told him too, but he spent most of his time after school helping Sam with his homework. Sam paid very close attention to Dean when he was teaching. It wasn't long before Sam was the smartest kid in his class again.

"Geek," snorted Dean. Sam smiled at him. It was that stupid, goofy grin that made Dean smile too. Sam lost a tooth. He had a big whole where it used to be. He kept sticking his tongue through it.

(_Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving) _

In school, both the kindergarten and the fourth grade were working on personal narratives. "Great," thought Dean sarcastically. Sam, on the other hand, was excited.

_(Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving)_

Dean wrote a story about playing catch with Dad. Dean pretended like it happened during the summer, not when he was four.

Sam wrote about his summer at Uncle Bobby's (because Dad was hunting for two months straight, but _Sam_ didn't know that). Sam sat their tiny table with a composition notebook in front of him.

"Hey, Dean?" he asked happily. "Do you remember what we did at Uncle Bobby's?"

"This summer?" asked Dean distractedly. "No."

Sam sighed. He made a list of the things he remembered, brainstorming. He pushed it in front of Dean. Sam stood up on his char, and put his hands on his hips. "Is that right?"

"Hey!" complained Dean. "Come on, bitch, get your crap outta my face!"

"Nu-uh!" said Sam stubbornly. "Not 'til you answer." Dean had already read halfway down Sam's (rather long) list. "And Dad said don't call me a bitch."

"Sit down, bitch," replied Dean. "You're gonna hurt yourself."

"Jerk," said Sam, plopping down on his chair. "So?"

"Your brain is weird, Sammy," commented Dean. "How the hell do you remember all that?"

Sam smiled and took back his notebook. All he said was, "Don't call me bitch."

_(Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving)_

Dad couldn't come to Dean's publishing party (which was a stupid name, by the way). Dean read his mostly made up story, and sat down to weak applause he didn't care about.

Sam's publishing party was the week after Halloween, and Dad couldn't come to that either. Sam was upset.

He pouted while he and Dean walked to school. Sam had been really excited about his publishing party. He wanted for Dad to hear about what he and Dean did at Uncle Bobby's, and maybe, thought Sam, if Dad saw kindergarten than he wouldn't make them move. And besides, he wouldn't _someone _to listen to his story, and Dad was the only one who cared.

Except for Dean. But Dean was in the fourth grade, so he couldn't come. Besides, Dean had been there.

So Sam walked, scuffing his feet on the sidewalk, head down, pouting.

"Buck up, Sammy," chided Dean. "Dad has to work."

"I know," muttered Sam. "But _everyone _has a mom going, and I don't even have Dad."

Dean sighed. "You do too have Dad," replied Dean. "I'm sure he'll want to hear it when he gets home."

Sam sighed this time, like he didn't believe a word Dean was saying. "You don't know that."

"Shut up," Dean said. He couldn't take another word of Sam's moping. Sometimes, Dean thought he just moped for the sake of moping, even at five.

Sam pouted some more.

_(Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving)_

Dean was sitting in his classroom. He wasn't making any friends in this fourth grade either, and this teacher was an old man who wheezed when he coughed. He was as old as some the books Dean saw at Uncle Bobby's house. He looked at the clock and contemplated sneaking out to go to hear Sam's story (which Sam had read to him no less than fifty times last night, and Dean might shoot himself if he heard it one more time, but still…), when a teacher knocked on the door.

Mr. Weiner, Dean's teacher, hobbled over and Mr. Weiner and the other teacher exchanged a hushed and wheezy conversation until Mr. Weiner beckoned at Dean to come and join in. His classmates looked at him and one of the boys whispered. "Ooooh, you're in trouble." Dean glared at him. That shut him right up.

"You're not in trouble," wheezed Mr. Weiner.

"Okay," replied Dean. He didn't think that he was. He hadn't done anything really bad, and he was pretty careful. He was pretty good at not getting caught at being bad.

"We can't get Sam to calm down," said the other teacher.

_(Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving)_

Dean sprinted down the hallway.

Well, not really, but he walked pretty damn fast, because Sam needed him and if kindergarten teachers (who were supposed to be able to deal with crying kids) couldn't stop a kid from crying and they had to call his big brother, then his big brother would be there.

It wasn't as if Sam had been screaming or trashing the room, but he was sitting on the carpet, sniffling with big, fat tears running down his face. A couple of moms who were there for the publishing party had tried, and failed, to comfort him, and his kindergarten teacher, Mrs. Peters, was standing about a foot away. Sam looked up when Dean entered the classroom, and wiped his tears quickly.

Dean stalked over to him, ignoring the kindergarten stares and whispers. Dean took Sam, and he put him in his lap. Sam folded into Dean and grabbed a fistful of Dean's shirt. Everyone was staring at them, and Dean wished they'd look away and continue with their stupid publishing party. "Hey, Sam," he whispered. "You're gonna stop crying, right, man?" Sam sniffed in response. "You're holdin' up the party, dude," Dean told him. Sam looked up at Dean with big, sorrowful, puppy-dog eyes.

"Sorry," he muttered. "Sorry."

"Yeah," agreed Dean. "I know you are. Come on." Dean stood up, dumping Sam gently on his feet, and took his hand and led him outside. Mrs. Peters followed them, after giving the signal for the kindergartners to continue reading.

Out in the hallway, Dean was sitting with his back against the wall, holding Sam in his lap, who was crying again, this time, really hard. Mrs. Peters didn't ask why, or if he was all right. She heard it from Sam. He could be very stubborn, even for a kindergartner.

Dean didn't ask. He knew why Sam was upset. He was upset about Dad, and Dean whispered to Sam that it was all right, but c'mon Sammy, you're a big boy.

Sam still sniffled miserably. "Not gonna," he informed Dean matter-of-factly.

"No one's making you," replied Dean. "But I think it would make Mrs. Peters really happy if you read it, don't you?" Dean didn't know or care if Mrs. Peters really wanted to hear one more story, but he did know that if Sammy thought it, then he would read it. He might be miserable doing it, but he would.

Sam rubbed his eyes, and Dean thought he looked a little tired, maybe. "Dad…" he pouted.

"It's not _her_ fault Dad couldn't be here," Dean reminded him. "Dad can hear it when he comes home."

Sam pouted some more and held Dean's hand in his. Dean let him. "Stay, Dean," he all but ordered.

"Course," agreed Dean. Mrs. Peters shouldn't have been surprised that Dean didn't ask.

Sam let go of Dean's hand and stood up, waiting for Dean to lead the way into the classroom, so he could read his story.

And he did, and Dean wasn't tempted (much) to take the little pocketknife he hid in his pocket and (attempt to) cut his own throat. Not even when Sam came over and took his hand again, so he had to stay the whole time. Not even when they had a little reception afterwards, and no less than six moms and little girls told Sam or Dean that Dean was a good big brother.

Dean sat at Sam's table in his little kindergarten chair and Sam sat in his lap, even though no one else was sitting at the table. He had a cookie, and he wanted another, but Dean told him "only one," and Sam pouted, but it wasn't the heartbroken pout from earlier.

"You're bossy," Sam told Dean. Dean smiled.

"I don't want to have to do this again," Dean said instead.

"You're bossy all the time, Dean," Sam told him.

"You know what I mean, Sammy," he said seriously.

"Sorry," muttered Sam. "I'm sorry, Dean."

"I know," Dean told him. "And I know you're upset. Just don't do it again."

"But Dad –" said Sam, turning around to look at Dean.

"Loves you, and wants to be here, but he _has _to work," Dean interrupted him. "It's important." Sam pouted again. Sammy was full of pouts today.

"He _always_ has to work."

"It's important," Dean repeated. "His work's important, Sam, you understand that, right?"

"Right," agreed Sam, and for someone who didn't know about what lurked in the dark, he did. "Sorry, Dean," he apologized again. "I won't –_I promise I won't –_do it again. I won't…won't be bad. Promise."

_(Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving)_

Sam wasn't bad for the rest of their stay at that school with Mr. Weiner and Mrs. Peters. That weekend, Dad came home and he piled them into the Impala and they had a picnic, even though it was cold and rainy. Sam was thrilled. Dean was happy.

On the way back to their current home, Sam told Dad that his class wrote stories and because Dad that his class wrote stories and because Dad was working, he didn't get to hear Sam's, and Sam wanted to read it to him as soon as they got home.

Dad sighed. He was tired, and Dean touched Sam's elbow lightly to remind him about how Dad gets sometimes, but Sam ignored him, because Dad was in a good mood today. Duh.

"That sounds great, Sammy," said Dad. "After you take a shower."

Dean smiled; because he hated that story Sammy insisted reading, but not enough not to listen.

_(Supernatural: Of Publishing Parties and Thanksgiving)_

They moved again after another couple of weeks. It was Thanksgiving time at the new school, and on the first day, Sam's class made a class turkey out of handprints.

The teacher, Mr. Salmon ("Like the fish?" asked Sam. "Exactly," replied Mr. Salmon with a smile), said that after Thanksgiving, they'd start preparing for the winter show.

Dad was home for Thanksgiving, and he said he was Thankful for his two boys every single day, so why have a _special_ day to give thanks, so Dad didn't get a big turkey like books Sam read in school said. But it wasn't any different from other Thanksgivings, and Dad even talked about Mom a little. And that night when they went to bed, Sam got to sleep in a big bed with Dean, because they didn't have school tomorrow and Dean said it was okay.

Sam snuggled up close to Dean, because the blankets were thin and the heating was crappy, so Dean didn't mind. When he was sure Dad was asleep, Dean whispered to Sam, "I am too, you know."

"You're what?" asked Sam sleepily, because he fell asleep best when he was next to Dean.

"Thankful," said Dean. "For you."

"And Dad, right?" asked Sam. He didn't want Dad's feelings to get hurt.

"Of course," said Dean with a laugh. "_You_ and Dad."

"Yeah," sighed Sam happily. "Me and Dad." Sam was quiet for a while, and Dean might have thought he'd finally gone to sleep, if Sam didn't keep shifting around to get more comfortable, and wasn't breathing like he was thinking really hard about something. "Know what _I'm_ thankful for?" he asked. Dean hummed his curiosity, although, it didn't matter whether he knew or didn't, or whether he wanted to know or not, because Sam was going to tell him. "You, and Dad, and the Impala, and school, and all the nice teachers and _none _of them were mean, and the books I read there, and that I'm good at writing stuff and adding stuff, and Uncle Bobby, and our army men…"

Sam fell asleep.

**A/N: There will be a companion piece...well...okay, I am probably at some point, definitely going to write a collection of personal narratives from Sam and Dean. It's going to be called: John Winchester's Collection of Personal Narratives by Sam and Dean. Just in case you were wondering what kind of writer Sam was in kindergarten. **

**Aright! **


	4. Of Valentine's Day and School Shows

**A/N: I am truly sorry to Sam Winchester. I tried to write this without getting Sam sick, and it failed. Although, it makes sense that he'd be sick at least once a year, but I mean... nevermind. Anyway, I'm apologizing to fictional characters in my author's note. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Supernatural or Kim Possible. I love both of those shows, and I'm not sure why or how Ron Stobbable ended up in this chapter, but he's there. Also, I don't know how to deal with miserable Sammy's. I tried my best. **

**Chapter Four: Of Valentine's Day and the Problem With School Shows**

Dad could come to the school's winter show, and _this _school went up to the eighth grade, and each grade sang one song, and the bigger kids walked around and pretended to be people who travelled, and sold stuff, like Dad. Then, at the end, all the grades sang one big song all together. Dean was not happy about this arrangement, but Sam was excited. He even got to say stuff, because he was the bester reader in the whole kindergarten.

At the end of the show, Dad told Sam he did a great job, and clapped Dean on the back and asked why it looked like he was being tortured.

_(Supernatural: Of Valentine's Day and the Problem with School Shows)_

The week after the show was winter break and Christmas, just the three of them. Dad was working really late on Christmas Eve, but he got Sam and Dean presents, and left them under their Charlie Brown tree, while Sam was asleep.

(_Supernatural: Of Valentine's Day and the Problem with School Shows) _

They spent another month in that school, and on Dean's tenth birthday they moved to their fourth school of the year, but a couple of weeks into February, Dad drove Sam out to Uncle Bobby's, and Dad said be good, ruffled his hair, and Dad took Dean and the Impala.

(_Supernatural: Of Valentine's Day and the Problem with School Shows) _

The hunt wasn't as much fun as Dean wanted. Mostly, he helped with research, and stayed at the motel while Dad asked around about witnesses, and stood back by the car, while Dad burned the bones of some old man, long, long dead, who wasn't even killing people yet. A not-yet-vengeful spirit.

Dad and Dean came to Uncle Bobby's and got themselves an armful of Sam before they could even tell Uncle Bobby they got back and thanks for watching Sam.

Sam ran up and threw himself at Dad, without thinking about how Dad would react. Dad smiled, and said, "Hey, Sammy."

"Where were you?" asked Sam anxiously.

"Working," Dad answered.

"_Where?" _

"Iowa."

"Doing?"

"Working, Sammy," said Dad again, getting impatient.

"Was _Dean _working?"

"Yes, Sam."

"Can _I _work with you, Dad?"

"Maybe in a few years, Sam." _No, _thought Dean irritably. Not if he had anything to say about it. _No, _thought Dad. Not if he could help it.

"Dad…" Sam started again.

"Sammy, please," Dad interrupted him instead. "I'm tired, buddy, and we've more hours in the car if you want to be at school tomorrow."

Which translated into: _harass Dean instead._

Dean, however, anticipated Sam's questions (or, if you were to _ask_ him, that's what he'd say), pulled a box of Valentine's Day cards from a plastic bag. Sam's face lit up.

"What are they, Dean?" he asked.

"Valentine's," explained Dean . "You're s'posed to give them to each kid in your class, right?" Sam nodded. "I thought you might like that kind of pansy thing."

Sam took the box, and fished around in his (incredibly neat) backpack, for a list of people in his class. He took the box and the class list to the table in Uncle Bobby's kitchen, because there was more light and room than his library (plus, Dad and Uncle Bobby were talking about grown-up stuff in theer) and Sam started to fill out the Valentine's, and handed them to Dean, who taped a lollipop to each one.

"Can I have one?' asked Sam, eyeing the lollipops. Dean rolled his eyes and tossed one at Sam. He took one for himself too.

"You know, you're gonna get a bunch tomorrow, right?" Dean told him.

"Whoa," breathed Sam.

Dean laughed.

"Dean," said Sam in his I'm-about-to-ask-you-a-million-questions voice. "What were you and Dad doing?"

"Working," said Dean, taping a lollipop to another Valentine, reading the name on it disinterestedly. Eddie Darwin. Sammy was probably the only kindergartener in the whole world who wrote the first and last name of each kid on the valentine's.

Sam handed him another one. Hannah Kennedy. "What does Dad do?"

"He sells stuff, Sam," Dean lied. He didn't like lying to Sam. He liked even less the idea of telling Sam the truth.

"Why'd you have to go?" asked Sam, writing another name on another valentine. Slowly. It was a long name.

Dean shrugged when Sam looked up. Ron Stoppable. "Cause."

"That's stupid," said Sam with a pout. "You shouldn't go anymore."

Dean couldn't help but smirk as he took the next valentine from Sam. Mark Watson. "Sammy?" Dean asked, and in those two syllables, Dean asked a multitude of questions. Primarily, "what's wrong?" and "Since when have you been able to tell me what to do?"

"I thought you left me," Sam whispered. He was done with is valentines', but he was staring unhappily at the table. "I thought you weren't gonna come back."

"Well, that's stupid," Dean informed him. "I couldn't leave you, Sam. Neither could Dad. Not forever. We'd miss you too much." Sam smiled weakly. "The three of us," Dean continued. "You, me, Dad, we're a team, Sammy. We need you."

_(Supernatural: Of Valentine's Day and the Problem with School Shows)_

The school year was almost over. Almost. It was Sammy's birthday. This would be the last school of the year probably. Sam had six teachers by his sixth birthday.

The absolute _worst_ thing about moving all the time, Dean had concluded, was having to do more than one concert a year. This year, Dean thanked every god he believed in, and even some he didn't, that he only had to suffer through the one in the winter.

Sam was _not _so lucky. They started at this new school on May 2, Sam's birthday, a Tuesday. He brought a flier back to the motel. The Kindergarten Spring Concert would be on Friday, May 12. Two whole weeks for Sam to get caught up on music and dancing.

Sammy was not happy, but he started determinedly at the flier, and asked Dad _very _politely if he could come.

Dad took a deep breath, and frowned. _Of course _it was on that day, at that time. Why'd they schedule the show for the middle of the day anyway? Don't normal people have _jobs_?

"I don't know, Sammy," Dad said slowly. "We'll see."

Sam scrunched up his face in that way he gets when he's going to cry, but he doesn't want to, and he nodded. He placed the flier on the counter and he pulled out his spelling homework.

Dean watched him just stare at the paper, as fat tears made their way down his little, scrunched up face. Sammy didn't even have a pencil out.

So Dean fished around in his own, slightly messier than Sam's, schoolbag until he came up with a pencil that still had most of the eraser.

"Here," said Dean, prodding Sam's arm with the eraser. "I figure you needed one."

Sam swatted it away, but he took it when Dean put it on the table next to him.

"Dean," Sam whimpered, still staring at his homework.

"We aren't going to have a repeat of the publishing party, are we, Sam?" Dean asked.

"No," Sam answered, although if they were, Dean would rather it happen _here_. "No," said Sam again. "That's not it, Dean."

"Oh," said Dean, a little surprised (although, he'd bet money that it was _part _of it). "What is it then?"

"I don't get it," he replied, gesturing to the worksheet.

"Oh." Dean sat down at the table with Sam, and patiently waited for Sammy to understand while he did his best to explain. Dean wasn't stupid though, and he knew if Sammy wasn't upset about the concert, he'd be able to do this as easy as breathing.

_(Supernatural: Of Valentine's Day and the Problem with School Shows) _

Well they sure didn't have a repeat of the publishing party. Oh no, during the publishing party, Sam had sat quietly on the rug and cried, and other than refusing to read his story, he had tried really hard _not_ to cause a scene.

This was so much worse. Because Sam Winchester was _upset_ and God help anyone who tried to make him do anything against his will.

The _problem _was that Sam had _not _learned the concert in the almost two weeks he'd been at the school (he didn't know that neither had anyone else, really). The problem was that even at the end of the year, Sam was behind and still trying very hard to keep up, but because he was Sam, he was in a constant state of frustration and anticipation over things he couldn't understand. The problem was that it was the end of the year and so no one in Sam's class was nervous anymore except for Sam, and no one had any interest in the new, stupid kid, who hung off his big brother's every word. The problem was, their current place of residence smelled so bad it made Sam want to throw up, and the beds were harder than usual, except for Sam's which was practically falling apart, and so Sam had slept in Dean's bed, but it was too hot, so no one had a good night sleep in a long time.

The problem was that Sam was more than just pouty. Sam was six-years-old and miserable in every way a six-year-old was capable of being miserable.

Including hungry, because last night, Sam had eight hours of sleep, but he overslept, so he hadn't eaten breakfast, even though Dean lectured his six-year-old ass the way to school.

So Sam had informed the class he would not be participating in _any_ of today's activities, _especially_ the concert, and sat stubbornly at his table, about to burst into tears, but not quite pitching a fit yet.

When his teacher told the class to line up, and Sam would not, she told Sam be _really great_ if Sam came with them, Sam started to cry and informed the whole kindergarten hallway he would not line up. He would not. You couldn't make him.

Everyone in his class stared. What else could they do? It only made it worse, though, because Sam cried louder when he saw every set of eyes on him. One of the little boys whispered, "freak," to his friend.

Sam stood up, angry now, and plowed towards him. Not a freak. Sam was not a freak.

The teacher caught Sam's arm before he got far, but Sam pulled out of her grip and plopped himself on the floor and cried. At some point, his classmates went to the concert and Sam was in the room alone with a different teacher, but Sam ignored him, and then suddenly, there was Dean. Sam didn't know why or how, but Dean was Dean. Dean didn't think he was a freak. Dean thought he was smart. Dean was Dean.

He leaned into Dean, because Dean would let him and it made Sam feel safe. Nothing could get him if Dean had anything to say about it, and Dean _always _had something to say. So nothing would get Sam as long as there was Dean. No stupid classmates, no stupid concerts. Not even stupid smelly rooms.

"Sammy," Dean sighed. "I thought you said we weren't gonna do this."

Sam sobbed into Dean's shirt in response.

"Yeah, okay," muttered Dean, rubbing Sam's back lightly. Sam sniffed. "You made quite a scene, dude," Dean told him, hoping Sam would feel guilty and buck up, but Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's neck, and put his head on Dean's shoulder.

"I'm tired."

"Yeah?" said Dean. "Never could have guessed. " Sam was completely in his lap now. Sam had crawled there himself. "You hungry?" Dean asked. Sam shook his head. Nine out of ten times Sam _was_ hungry, he said he wasn't. "I think you need to eat something," Dean continued. "You are definitely not at your best, Sammy."

"M'not hungry," insisted Sam. "Honest."

Dean sighed and put his hand on Sam's forehead. "Do you feel okay, Sammy?"

"_Tired," _moaned Sam, half-asleep in Dean's lap. The tears had dried on his face.

"Did you try to hurt that kid?"

"Tired," he repeated. "Called me a freak."

"Sorry, Sam," said Dean. "Not an excuse."

"I wanna sleep," decided Sam, wrapping his arms closer around Dean's neck.

"You have a fever, Sam, so can you sleep at the motel?" asked Dean, who was not lying about the fever. Sam's teacher raised a challenging eyebrow at Dean, who raised two in response. Sam shook his head.

"Smells," he sniffed. "Dad's gonna be mad."

Dean sighed. Sam's teacher saw the look on Dean's face, though Sam did not. She thought Dean knew that was exactly what their father would be. "Nah, Sammy," said Dean. "He won't mind."

"Don't."

"Alright," Dean agreed. "We won't call Dad."

"Thanks," said Sam, nestling a little closer to Dean, who wrapped his arms tighter around Sammy.

"We can't stay here, Sam," Dean reminded him. "If you want to sleep, we've gotta move."

"Tired."

"And sick, and hungry, and miserable because of school and Dad working. Sam, I know."

"You can take him to the nurse's office," said that other teacher. "Then you can go back to class."

Dean gave him a very strange look that the teacher could not quite place, and Dean carried Sam to the nurse's office.


	5. Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammys

**A/N: Last chapter. Hooray. It's finished. Also, (this is where you skip to the story, I'm serious) today, I have been watching Supernatural for six months. **

**Disclaimer: Altough I sold my soul six months ago, I still do not get supernatural. **

**Chapter Five: Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammy's **

"Sam?" asked one of the parents of one of the little girls in Sam's class.

"He's new," she answered. "He was here this week and the week before that."

"Was he okay?"

The Little Girl shrugged. "He's really quiet," she explained. "But he cried today. And yelled a little, and he was mean to Benny."

"Is Benny okay?"

"Yeah," the Little Girl said conversationally. "He's okay. He is a _real _character, Mommy." Her mom smiled. "He called Sam a freak cuz he was crying like a baby."

"Why was he crying, Stacy?"

Stacy shrugged again. "I dunno. He doesn't talk to anybody but his big brother in the _whole _school, on account of he's new, and kinda shy. And he doesn't do good in school, but he reads and adds pretty good."

"Your teacher's calling, sweetheart," said Stacy's mom, bending down and kissing the top of her head. "I'll see you soon."

(_Supernatural: Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammy's) _

Mrs. Flowers had been informed about her new student, Sam Winchester. Exceptionally bright, quiet, respectful, optimistic, and a ball full of energy on eight out of ten days. A quiet, respectful ball of energy.

Also, Sam Winchester was very sensitive, and incredibly fond of his older brother, Dean.

Mrs. Flowers knew Sam's family moved around a lot. Sam and Dean had already been to five schools this year, but it had thus far not deterred Sam Winchester from being above reading level.

In the two weeks Sam had been in here class, he had been delightful. Quiet, respectful, smart, and _determined_. Mrs. Flowers had met some stubborn kindergarteners in her career, but none so determined as Sam Winchester.

In the two weeks the Winchesters had been at the school, Mrs. Flowers knew Dean almost as well as Sam. He was loud, and brazen, and liked to make sure everyone knew he was a Winchester, and Winchester are a stubborn race of human.

Except around his brother. Heck, if Mrs. Flowers was Dean Winchester's little brother, than she would adore him too. Sam _idolized _Dean. Sam relaxed around Dean. There were really only two states of being for Sam Winchester: with Dean, and without Dean. With Dean was safe. With Dean was fun. With Dean was home.

Without Dean was vulnerable and scary and boring, and yet still kind of exciting but not for long. And for school being without Dean, Sam loved school an inordinate amount.

Sam never showed any signs of hating schools until that Friday, when Sam came in moping and rubbing his eyes, and informed Mrs. Flowers that he would not be singing in the kindergarten concert. Then he proceeded to refuse to do anything else she asked the class to do.

And threw a fit, and when Benny called him a freak, scrawny six-year-old though he was, Mrs. Flowers thought he would take the stupid kid's head off.

Sam then continued to cry loudly, and nothing they did would get him to stop. He just kept crying. And so Big Brother had to be fetched, and Sam registered _Dean_ after a few minutes, and practically folded into his brother's lap. And Dean had proclaimed Sam sick on top of everything else and he was out of the classroom about five minutes before the rest of the students came back.

And the first thing that stupid kid Benny asked was, "What happened to Sam?" And Mrs. Flowers bit back her, "you pissed him off, moron," and she sat on her desk and put on her serious face.

"Sam wasn't feeling well," she said sweetly.

"Why'd he cry?" continued Benny. Mrs. Flowers began to wonder if letting Sam take Benny's head off was that terrible of an idea, but she suppressed that thought. "It's a new school, and he's nervous and lonely," she told them. "Remember how scared you were on your first day?" Mrs. Flowers got an affirmative hum and many understanding nods. "Sam doesn't know anyone here, and he wasn't feeling well." It wouldn't be the first time kindergarteners had cried because they were feeling a little overwhelmed.

"Is he coming back?" asked Stacy.

"He'll probably be back on Monday," Mrs. Flowers told them. "When he comes back, I want us all to try and make him feel like part of the class, okay?" More nods. Not one from Benny.

Dean Winchester opened the door at that very moment. He was alone, but he seemed to know what he was looking for and where he'd find it.

"Hi," said Stacy, waving at him. Dean smiled back.

"Who're you?" asked Benny.

Dean frowned at him, like he sense that this was the boy who upset Sammy. He thought, however, saying something snarky to a kindergartner wouldn't go down too well. "I'm Sam's brother. I'm here to get his stuff," said Dean. And after a few more seconds of awed stares, Mrs. Flowers got them back on track.

(_Supernatural: Of Kindergarten Teachers and Sick Sammy's) _

Sam woke up somewhere he didn't recognize, but in Sam's life, he'd woken up lots of different places, so Sam didn't mind. He rubbed his eyes groggily and sat up. The first thing he noticed was how much his head hurt.

"Hey, Sammy," said someone next to him. Sam jumped and looked lover. Dean. It was just Dean. "How're you doing?" he asked.

"My head hurts," complained Sam. "A lot."

"How much is 'a lot,' Sammy?" asked Dean.

Sam shrugged. "I don't know, Dean. Just a lot." Sam turned his eyes on him.

"Okay, Sammy, I believe you," said Dean. "But we can't leave until someone gets in touch with Dad or Pastor Jim or someone."

Sam shrugged again.

"You hungry, Sam?" asked Dean. Sam shook his head. Dean didn't think he'd say he was. Especially not if he still had a fever. "Could you eat something?"

Sam shrugged. "I guess," he sighed.

"Good," said Dean, making Sam's lunchbox appear out of nowhere, and he pulled out a sandwich. Dean even unwrapped it and handed Sam half. Sam didn't know what kind of sandwich it was, but when he took a bite, he couldn't help but make a face and hand it back to Dean. Dean pushed it back into Sam's hands. "Just a little, Sam," insisted Dean, retrieving a water bottle, and handing him that too. Sam took a couple of big gulps using both hands, leaving his half-a-sandwich forgotten on his lap. Dean nudged him, when Sam handed Dean the water bottle back. Sam picked his sandwich up and stared at it for a few seconds before taking the most hesitant, smallest bit Dean had ever seen.

"Are you gonna barf?" asked Dean, lowering his voice a little anxiously, mostly because Dean had been to more schools than he could remember, and knew teachers and especially school nurses had a puke-radar.

Sam shook his head. "Not hungry," he repeated. "Still tired. Dean, my head hurts. I wanna sleep in the car."

"Eat just a little," said Dean, ignoring everything else Sam shot at him. Sam took another obedient, microscopic bite. He closed his eyes and let his head droop a little. Dean scooted closer to Sam and lifted his chin up so he was looking Dean sleepily in the eye. Sam knew Dean was trying to take his temperature just by staring at him. Finally, Dean sighed and removed his hand from Sam's chin. "You'll live," he decided. Sam hummed in response and continued to chewing on his sandwich. It tasted bad. He wanted to give it back to Dean or for Dean to tell him that was enough, because Sam didn't _want _the stupid sandwich.

"Not hungry," grumbled Sam again.

"Okay, fine," agreed Dean, and took it back from Sam after some examination. H'm. Sam hadn't meant to say it out loud. Oh well, the sandwich was gone.

The nurse walked in, and she started to say something, when she saw that Dean was still sitting there. She seemed a little surprised. "Dean, honey." She had to search for the name and the "honey" seemed a little forced, but she said it with genuine concern. "You should be in class."

"It's okay," said Dean condescendingly. "I'm more use here than anywhere else."

"I really think it's –"

"My brother who threw a fit in kindergarten today," Dean continued, raising his voice a little. Sam ducked his head, embarrassed. "I really think it's my brother who has a fever and is exhausted. I think I'll stay, thanks." Dean's voice was perfectly even. "D'you have something to say?" Any other teacher wouldn't have stood being spoken to like that, but the nurse was just sort of stunned, and Sammy cracked a smile.

"Your father's on his way, Sam," she said. "He said he'll be here as soon as he can."

_That's what Dad_ always _says,_ thought sick-tired-already-upset Sammy sourly. Dean smiled. "Thanks."

She rolled her eyes and left to attend to other sick kids.

Sam leaned into Dean. "You called Dad?" he asked miserably.

"Do you have a better way to sleep in the car?" asked Dean.

Sam didn't say anything. He sighed and closed his eyes. "Tired," he complained.

"Sammy, if you say that one more time, I might just go back to class," Dean threatened. It was an empty threat, but Sam grabbed at the hem of Dean's shirt and looked up at him with big, pleading eyes.

"Good," said Dean. "Because you're gonna need me to back you up when Dad finds out about today. He's gonna be pissed."

"Why does Dad have to know?" asked Sam in a small voice.

"Sammy, they probably already told him," said Dean. "When your kid tried to take a swing at another kid, parents get called."

"I didn't try to _punch _Benny," grumbled Sam irritably. Sam was just going freak him out a little.

"It doesn't matter, Sam," said Dean, touching on impatient. "Sam, there are days I want to rip everyone in school apart, okay? But I _don't_, even though I _could._"

"Yeah, but–" started Sam. He didn't know how he'd finish that sentence. It didn't matter. Dean didn't let him.

"And that Benny kid is a freakin' jerk, don't get me wrong," continued Dean, like he actually knew how annoying Benny was. "But Sam, you can't."

"I know, Dean," mumbled Sam. He did. Honest. But he was so angry and tired and frustrated and…freak… Sam listened to Dad when he thought Sam was asleep. He said words a lot worse than "freak," but only as in words not to use in school, or in front of Pastor Jim, or the baby sitters Dad sometimes got for them. "Freak" was said a lot, and Dad sure didn't like them. A freak was someone who was different. Sam was different from Benny and Ava and Ashley and Louis and Stacy and everyone else, but Sam wasn't a freak, was he? "But I'm not a freak."

"Oh, I don't know about that," said Dean. "But you're no different from me or Dad. And that's okay, I guess." Sam smiled weakly. "And Sam," continued Dean. "Before you tried to kill Benny," he clarified. "What the heck, man?" Sam shrugged. "This is not going to happen again, understand, or I won't be there when Dad unleashes the wrath of God on you next time. And you ain't gonna like it." Sam nodded, but he kept his eyes on the floor. "Sammy?"

"Yeah, okay, Dean," agreed Sam. "But –"

"What are you even arguing about, Sam?" said Dean. "You are going to go to school and you're gonna impress everyone with your freaky brain, and your evil puppy-dog eyes, and you're gonna tell me and Dad everything, and it's gonna be great, because that's what Sam's do best, am I right?"

Sam shrugged. "But what if –"

"If what?" asked Dean. "If you're upset?" Dean was quiet. "I'm not saying don't be upset, Sammy. I'm saying don't let kids like Benny know you're upset. You can tell me if something makes you sad, Sam, but the whole kindergarten should have to hear you bitch." Sam nodded again. "I'm gonna tell you a secret, Sammy," he said suddenly. "Sometimes, even I get upset. And Dad too."

"Cuz of Mom?"

"Yeah," agreed Dean. "Sometimes. You know what else makes him sad?" Sam shook his head. "When his favorite geek doesn't like school."

"I don't like this school," said Sam, like he might be letting Dad down.

"Yeah, well," said Dean, picking up his own and Sam's bag. "This school sucks." He offered Sam his hand, and Sam took it. Dean led him to front office to wait for Dad to pick them up so Dad could give Sam hell about flipping out, and then letting him fall asleep in the car. _Because Dad does what dad's do best, _thought Sammy, sitting on Dean's lap. _Being a big brother._


End file.
